


white winter hymnals

by celaenos



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Christmas Caroling, F/F, Femslash Yuletide, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 09:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2767538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celaenos/pseuds/celaenos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura decides annual caroling with her father is a great way to introduce him to her new vampire girlfriend. Camilla disagrees, but goes anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	white winter hymnals

“Stop fussing with your coat, it's gonna be fine,” Laura says, holding Carmilla's hands down at her sides. Carmilla glares at her, to which Laura simply rolls her eyes. “It's gonna be _fine_ ,” she repeats, for maybe the fifth time today.

“Ah sure,” says Carmilla, sarcastically. “I'm sure that your dad is going to be just _thrilled_ to meet the 300 year old vampire that his daughter has been dating.” She lowers her voice and tries to make herself appear taller, mimicking a man she has yet to meet. “Oh hello dear, it's lovely to meet you. Have some egg nog, come caroling with us!” she turns to level Laura with a frown. “This is stupid.”

“It's not,” Laura insists, a little put upon. “It's _fun_. We do it every year.”

“Caroling,” Carmilla says with a scoff.

“Yes—” Laura loops her arm through Carmilla's, reveling in the way that Carmilla automatically sinks into her even while annoyed, “—caroling. Walking around at night singing Christmas carols, seeing people's decorations, and drinking hot chocolate with my dad is _fun_. We've done it every year since my mom died.”

Carmilla softens then. The change is so apparent it's as if she melts, her snarky, apathetic exterior gone, replaced by the most caring and gentle face Laura's ever seen. It still shocks her every time that it happens.

“I'm sorry... I didn't...”

Laura waves her off. “I know,” she says. “It's fine. That's not what I meant. I just meant we've been doing it since forever. I can't imagine—or remember really—a Christmas without doing it,” she grins at Carmilla, insistent. “And _it is_ fun. And I'd love for you to join us, but if you really don't want to, you don't have to come. I'd rather just have fun with my dad and not make you miserable.”

“No,” Carmilla grumbles, “I'll come.”

Laura kicks her feet out happily, jostling Carmilla against her side. “Great! I should warn you however, neither my father nor I can carry a single tune.”

Carmilla's face freezes, turning her head to Laura very slowly, she waits. “What?”

“Oh, we're terrible. That's half the fun,” Laura tells her with a bright smile. She watches as Carmilla's face remains carefully blank. Beaming, she leans forward and places a quick kiss to Carmilla's cheek. “Come on, he'll be here any minute.”

…

…

Carmilla stands stiffly beside Laura as her father smiles down at them. He _is_ a little bit imposing Laura supposes. But it's his presence more than anything, Danny has him by at least two inches or so. Nonetheless, he's a complete teddy bear and Laura wouldn't have thought that one man could unnerve a centuries old vampire. Laura watches Carmilla in awe. She has never seen her behave like this before, quiet and unassuming. Giving Laura's father small, polite smiles, no bite to her answers at all. It is like she is another person entirely. Laura doesn't think she likes it much. It's not Carmilla.

When her dad turns around to get their songbooks, Laura pokes Carmilla in the side of her stomach roughly.

“ _Ouch_ ,” Carmilla snaps. “What was that for? I'm being _nice_.”

“And it's creepy,” Laura says, “stop it.”

Carmilla's face shifts into something Laura can't read. “You think I can't be nice?” she asks, slowly.

Laura rolls her eyes and links her mitten covered hand with Carmilla's bare one. “Of course you can be nice, don't be dumb.” They walk over towards the rest of the group of still gathering carolers. “I mean don't be weird and overly polite. My dad is going to love you. Just act normal.”

Carmilla raises her eyebrows. “Normal for me is going to consist of a lot of complaining about each song,” she warns.

“I know,” Laura says with a smile.

“You asked for it cupcake.”

…

…

Carmilla doesn't sing. She halfheartedly moves her mouth whenever Laura's father looks over at her, but otherwise just stands there and sulks. She hisses remarks to Laura under her breath about certain lyrics, the other carolers outfits, or the families they are singing to. And she laughs at Laura's attempts to sing. Laura doesn't mind, she knows that she is hopelessly tone deaf. She stopped being embarrassed about it the first year her father dragged her out to do this when she was seven. His voice was just as terrible as hers, the two of them belting out as loudly as they could, turning it into a competition to see who could get the weirdest faces out of the people they were singing to. (He won during 'The Twelve Days of Christmas', but he gave her an extra hot chocolate afterwards.)

From then on, Laura sang out loudly and proudly, not caring whether or not it sounded right. Carmilla bites at her lip so hard to keep herself from laughing, that by the third house they stop at, she is starting to bleed a little. Laura kicks her in the shin and tells her to cut it out.

At the fifth house, Laura's father turns to Carmilla. “You're not singing,” he says. Carmilla starts to argue, but he holds up his hand. “I can tell the difference.”

Carmilla hesitates a second, shooting a quick glance towards Laura. “Yeah, well... I think caroling is idiotic,” she admits with a shrug. Laura watches her father's face carefully. It hasn't changed. “I came 'cause Laura said it was important.”

Laura can't help but smile at that. She catches her father's eye, their fellow carolers going on and on about falling on knees around them. He smiles, and Laura knows that Carmilla has won him over. “Sing for at least one whole song, I'll make you my special hot chocolate,” he offers.

“Oh, that's a good deal.” Laura says. Her father has never, not once through at least fourteen years of asking, revealed his secret recipe to her. And he will only make it in December, no exceptions.

Carmilla stares at him, “Make it a double,” she challenges.

He looks between her and Laura, then holds his hands up in defeat. “Deal,” he points down at Carmilla with a smile. “But I've got to hear you sing.”

Carmilla shrugs, opening her mouth and picks up in the middle of the song seamlessly with the carolers. Laura's jaw definitely drops open. She can see the shock on her father's face out of the corner of her eye, but all she can do is stare at Carmilla. Her voice is _amazing_. It blends in with the rest of the carolers effortlessly at first, then she overpowers them. They all quiet down, like it was a planned solo, and just listen. When she finishes off the song, the family in the house starts clapping madly (as do a few carolers). Laura simply stares.

The carolers start moving towards the next house with renewed vigor, and Laura's father reaches out and rustles Carmilla's hair. She stiffens visibly for a moment, but allows it. “Kid, you have to sing more than one song with those pipes,” he says happily. “I'll give you all the hot chocolate you want.”

“I'm not singing Jingle Bells.” Carmilla says firmly, looking up at him.

He laughs and says, “Deal,” before walking over to join the rest of the group, leaving the two of them alone.

Laura turns towards Carmilla slowly, her mouth agape. “You can sing,” she says, astonished.

Carmilla shrugs, glancing down at the snow. “Yeah.”

“You—you can _sing_!” Laura yells. Carmilla is starting to look sheepish, or as sheepish as she ever gets. “I... I can't believe you didn't tell me you could sing. You are going to have to do that more often.”

“What,” Carmilla laughs, “serenade you with Christmas carols?”

Laura nods, looping their arms back together and directing them over towards her father. “Absolutely.”

“Alright,” Carmilla says with a sigh and a dangerous looking grin. “O Come All Ye Faithful, one showing just for you later tonight.”

Laura smacks Carmilla in the arm, her eyes widening as she glances over to make sure her father isn't in range. “Carm!” she squeaks, “My dad is _right there_.”

Carmilla leans in, nipping at Laura's frozen ear just slightly and then grins against her cheek. “You told me to act normal,” she says in her defense.

Laura drags Carmilla and her shit-eating grin over towards her father. He waves at them, belts out incorrect lyrics, and does a little spin in the snow. The family they are singing for cringe and Carmilla laughs, returning the thumbs up he gives her, and only looking slightly sarcastic as she does so.

In hindsight, Laura should have known better.

 


End file.
